Dog Days Aren’t Over

There isn’t much space.

There never was.

I can’t trust the others either, because we fight for food. Fight for everything. There’s barely space to walk a few paces in, in our enclosure. Three of us. Big, aggressive males, bursting with energy.

Through the gate, freedom beckons, but the gate is always closed. And we’re on the wrong side of it.

There isn’t much to do either. It’s boring and it makes me sad.

I heard beautiful music playing from the other house once. It made us quiet. It made us sit and think. The girl who lives there talks to us from the window and tells us not to be sad. She thinks it’s better that we die though. I see it in her eyes.

But maybe one day she’ll sneak down to our enclosure and we can run past the gate. Maybe we’ll have space enough to be friends, the three of us, and her. Maybe it won’t have to be like this anymore.

Based off the three dogs that live in the little garden near my house. It’s really unfair, since they’re quite big but have no space to run, so I decided to write one for them, the poor things. 

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